


Christmas Cutie

by Fire_Bear



Series: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Christmas, Christmas songs, M/M, Seriously don't know what else to put in these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: After a tragedy a few years ago, Alfred has shut himself away from Christmas. Unfortunately for him, his new upstairs neighbour seems to like it...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Worst. Title. Ever. It's really got nothing to do with the story. This is actually for the same prompt as the last one, I just thought it would be interesting if it was the characters were swapped. So this happened.
> 
> Oh, and someone on Tumblr was saying that I should use Fairytale of New York when I was talking about songs so I sneaked it in here.
> 
> P.S. There's five years between Arthur and Alfred and Arthur is younger. Because Arthur being younger is apparently my jam or whatever.

“ _The boys of the NYPD choir_  
_Were singing 'Galway Bay'_  
 _And the bells are ringing_  
 _Out for Christmas Da_ y.”

The music was coming from above and Alfred stared upwards, wondering how he could have missed someone moving in. Then again, he had been busy at his work and had only just taken a holiday for the first time in a while. In fact, he had saved up his holidays and taken the entire month of December off in the hopes of avoiding Christmas entirely. Unfortunately, it looked like the new neighbour was a fan of Christmas and it was taking all of Alfred's willpower not to cry.

Five years earlier, on Christmas Eve, he had decided to go to a friend's Christmas party. So his parents and his brother went to their usual party, his dad's work's gig. And that was when some drunk driver ploughed into the car and killed them all. Ever since, Alfred hadn't been able to see or hear anything about Christmas without remembering that horrible phone call and the days following. He'd even seen the pictures of his father's car when he went to court to see the driver being convicted. Every Christmas, he had nightmares and he wished the holiday didn't exist.

“ _-I put them with my own_  
_Can't make it all alone_  
 _I've built my dreams around you.”_

At that point, Alfred couldn't take it any more. He had to make it stop or else he'd break down. So, grabbing his keys, Alfred hurried from his flat and took the stairs two at a time. The walls of the stairwell thankfully kept the music muffled but it was far louder when Alfred finally burst onto the landing. It had changed while he moved and was now playing I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday; Alfred winced at the thought.

In a rush, Alfred knocked on the door. He had been hoping that the music would stop if the person came to the door but, instead, it kept going as he heard shuffling and thumps from beyond. Then there was a click and the door opened. At first Alfred was assaulted by various Santa figurines and he was sure he spotted a moving reindeer at the far end of the hallway. Then he blinked and focussed on the figure before him.

With a small smile, the new neighbour blinked bright green eyes at Alfred. His blond hair was mess and had silver glitter dusting it. In fact, the first thought that Alfred had was that the young man was really cute. Then he took in what he was wearing and bit his lip to keep himself from grimacing. He had decided to put on a Christmas jumper, one which was a dark green with a robin on it, the robin itself wearing a Santa hat.

“Oh, hello,” said the man. “You must be one of my new neighbours. I'm so sorry about how loud the music is but the volume control on my hi-fi is broken – I can't turn it up or down. It's a second-hand thing. Ah! I'm Arthur Kirkland – nice to meet you.” He held out his hand and waited patiently as Alfred stared.

Hesitantly, Alfred took Arthur's hand. “I'm Alfred F. Jones and I live downstairs. If you can't turn it down, can you turn it off? It's really annoying.”

“Uh...? Annoying?” Arthur said, clearly astonished.

“Yeah. Annoying. Turn it off.”

“What? But...” Arthur glanced over his shoulder and Alfred spotted a tiny silver star stuck behind his ear. “But it's December. Doesn't it put you in the Christmas spirit? Or-”

“No,” Alfred said, shortly. “I don't want to- I'd just rather not hear your music, thanks.”

“Oh. Oh, um, I'm sorry...” Arthur frowned.

Before he could say anything else or argue with Alfred any further, he spun on his heel and stalked off, his fists clenched. At the last moment, he thought to call over his shoulder, “Thanks.” Then he was through the door to the landing and on his way home.

The music continued until Alfred had reached his flat and then it cut off Jingle Bells, leaving Alfred feeling equal parts relieved and guilty...

* * *

Early the next morning, there was a knock at Alfred's front door. It jolted him from his nightmare and he lay in his bed in confusion, tangled in his bedsheets. When the knock came again, Alfred realised what was happening and dragged himself from his bed. Since it was a little chilly, he merely dragged his toasty quilt with him wrapping it around him so that whoever was at the door wouldn't be alarmed that he was just in his boxers. Eventually, he reached his door and opened it – just as Arthur, of all people, was turning to leave. Arthur paused, wobbling a little as he tried to stop himself from turning completely.

“Oh, um,” Arthur said, obviously surprised that Alfred had even opened the door.

“Oh,” Alfred echoed. “Uh, hi. Morning. Is it morning?”

“Hm, yes,” said Arthur, glancing towards the elevators. “I was just... I thought I'd come apologise for yesterday.”

Guilt flashed through Alfred; Arthur clearly thought he was in the wrong when, really, Alfred had been the one to rain on Arthur's parade. Biting his lip, Alfred shook his head. “No, it's...” Shrugging, Alfred didn't know what else to say.

Arthur looked him up and down and Alfred thought he saw his cheeks turning a little pink. He tugged the quilt tighter around himself. Then Arthur glanced away, took a breath and said, “I feel bad about disturbing you yesterday so I'd like to make it up to you. Though, um, I'm not sure whether you'd like to have lunch or just go for tea or coff-”

Alfred cut him off, “No. I don't want to go out.”

“Oh. Are you... Are you not feeling well?”

He looked so concerned that Alfred's guilt increased but his anger returned. How dare this person appear to make him feel bad for not acknowledging Christmas? “No,” he said again. “I just don't like Christmas.”

For a moment, there was silence as Arthur blinked at him. “But... What? You-”

“I hate Christmas. What's so hard to understand about that?” Alfred demanded, clutching his quilt closer.

“Well, um, that... That doesn't really have anything to do with what I was asking, does it? I'm not asking you to Christmas dinner with my family, am I?” Arthur was frowning now, looking as though he was beginning to get angry as well. “It's only coffee.”

“I don't want to see anything to do with Christmas. Could you guarantee that?”

“What's your problem?” Arthur snapped. “It's Christmas, the time of good cheer. You don't need to be such a dick about it. What, did you get dumped last year or something?”

Something snapped within Alfred. “Just forget it! It doesn't matter to _you_. We're not friends or anything! We don't need to speak to each other ever again!” And, with that, he slammed the door shut.

* * *

Of course, after saying that, Alfred bumped into Arthur whilst collecting his mail the next day. They glared at each other as Arthur passed but, when Alfred had retrieved the limited amount of letters (some of which he could tell were Christmas cards and he would immediately throw away), he turned back to the elevators and found that Arthur was still waiting on one. Reluctantly, he moved towards him and stepped into the elevator which arrived just as he reached Arthur. They both moved to opposite sides of the elevator, Arthur glaring into the mirror.

The silence stretched until Arthur found its breaking point. Without turning to look at Alfred, he said, “I'm sorry.”

“Huh?” said Alfred, almost dropping his mail.

Arthur shrugged a shoulder, gripping the strap of his bag tighter. “I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just that I love Christmas – I mean” - he excitedly turned to Alfred, lighting up - “you can practically feel the magic in the air.” He paused and deflated, ducking his head. “Sorry. I just don't understand how you could hate it so much. And I inconvenienced you with it – so, I apologise.”

Alfred sighed, knowing that he was much more in the wrong than Arthur. The man hadn't really done anything bad and Alfred was punishing him for it. “No, it's not your fault. It's _mine_ for snapping at _you_. Sorry. And sorry for slamming the door in your face.” He paused, wondering whether he should explain. Catching sight of Arthur's curious look, he took a breath and turned to him. “The reason I don't like-” he began, but the elevator pinged and jolted into place on Alfred's floor. They both looked at the number above the doors as they slowly opened. “Er...”

“Bye, Alfred,” Arthur said, giving Alfred a small smile.

Finding himself wondering if Arthur ever smiled any wider than that, Alfred stepped out of the elevator and turned to him. When he saw that Arthur was looking away from him again, he reached out and grabbed the edge of the elevator door when they began to close. The sensors, thankfully, stopped them from crushing his hand and he pushed the doors open again. Arthur looked up at that, eyes wide and bright in the lights.

“The reason I don't like Christmas is 'cause my family died on Christmas Eve five years ago and, just...” Feeling himself well up, Alfred shrugged a shoulder and ducked his head, removing his hand from the door. “I can't- Not without...” Taking a shaky breath, he looked up at Arthur. He just managed to see Arthur's horrified expression before the doors slid shut and he was left to stare at them instead.

* * *

After a few days, Alfred had to accept that Arthur wasn't going to come down to him. It wasn't too surprising: the man obviously loved Christmas as much as everyone else and wouldn't be able to face someone whose experiences of Christmas were vastly different from his. And why should he come down when the last time he did, Alfred had shut him out? Alfred couldn't bring himself to go upstairs either so he did what he always did and stayed shut away, ordering in food instead of leaving to go to the hell of the shops.

So, as he was having a marathon of all the Marvel films, he was startled when there was a knock on the door. Wondering who it could be, he picked up the remote and paused the film as Captain America was kicking ass. When he finally opened the door, he found Arthur fidgeting with a plastic bag, staring at the floor.

“Ah, er,” Arthur said, looking up in surprise. He was wearing a Doctor Who hoodie that was at least one size too big and he looked cute. Alfred berated himself for thinking like that and forced himself to speak.

“Hi,” he said. “Um. Is there something wrong?”

“Well, yes,” Arthur replied. “I've been rather inconsiderate. So I thought I'd try to make it up to you. I don't know... Well, I... Here.” He held out the bag and Alfred hesitantly took it. “It's not a Chri- A _You-Know-What_ present. So I didn't wrap it. It's an apology present. If you don't want it, I can...” Trailing off, Arthur shrugged.

Taking a second to let the words sink in, Alfred looked down at what he held. Opening the bag, he reached in and grabbed the thing; it was hard and lumpy and, now that he thought about it, heavy. He pulled it out – and almost dropped it when he saw what it was.

Five years ago, after his family had died, Alfred had dared to open the presents that had been waiting for him under the tree. His parents had gotten him a new laptop and some novelty drinking things. Meanwhile, his brother had opted to appeal to the geek Alfred was and had gotten him a Captain America figure, one where the hero himself was in the act of throwing his shield. When he had seen it, he had been struck by a sense of guilt and grief so intense that he'd thrown all of the presents into the trash. And, now, as though he was some sort of miraculous Christmas Spirit, Arthur was giving him the exact same figure.

“What...?” Alfred breathed, unsure how to feel. It was as though his brother was giving him his present again, all these years later, trying to send him a message.

“I'm sorry,” Arthur was saying once Alfred remembered who was with him. “I saw those Captain America posters last time I was here and one of my older brothers' left that in the house- My parents' house, I mean. Um, anyway, he said it was for me or Peter – he's my younger- You probably don't want to know... I'll just-”

“No!” Alfred cried, yanking the figure out of Arthur's reach; his fingers brushed Alfred's as his outstretched hand gripped at nothing. “No,” Alfred repeated after they had stared at each other in surprise. “I... I want it. I mean... Thank you.”

“Oh. Oh, that's good. Um.” Arthur shifted on his feet, his hands behind his back now. “Well, if I'm forgiven... I'll leave you to it.”

Still rather shocked, Alfred watched Arthur go. He felt rather light-headed and his chest felt tight, as if something heavy was pushing down on him. It suddenly seemed like he had two paths and, if he didn't act now, he'd regret it later. Should he hide from Christmas and retreat into his flat or reach out to Arthur and...? Well, that was the question – if he stopped Arthur now, what would happen? With his heart hammering, Alfred took a step out of his door, holding it open, so that he could see Arthur better.

“Hey, Ar-Artie?” he called.

Turning, Arthur frowned at Alfred and put his hands on his hips. “Don't call me that,” he said. “Ah, but, what is it?”

“Um. I was thinking... Would you... D'ya wanna help me get into the Christmas spirit? Like, go out to get coffee somewhere? Or something...”

Arthur's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Then, seeming to realise what he was doing, he snapped his mouth close with an audible click. “I, um, I have lectures tomorrow. But I'll come straight here afterwards, okay? If that's all right with you, I mean. In fact, I could bring the coffee here and... we can watch Christmas films instead?”

Somehow, the fact that Arthur was trying his hardest to accommodate Alfred filled him with glee. He grinned happily. “Sure. See ya tomorrow, Art.”


End file.
